


Second Chances

by Bunnyhops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7172669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnyhops/pseuds/Bunnyhops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have a plan.  Will Hermione play their game?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chances

A/N: It’s written in the first person for the first half. Odd, I know, but my muse, as you know, is a quirky witch. Enjoy!

#  _Second Chances_

**________________________________________________________________________**

I’m bored, or I was until recently; until _They_ spoke to me.

 

Who’s They, you ask? Good question.

 

The Fates. Dodgy Gits.

 

I was wandering around in a haze until I heard them. I’m not sure for how long; time is different here. I hadn’t yet realized that I was dead.

 

Not that I mind being dead… anymore.

 

Oh, I railed against it at first, bracing myself for some unseen danger, or unexpected fight around the next corner; except there was no corner and eventually I realized no fight.

Cleverest witch of my age, indeed; it seemed like an eternity before I figured out that nothing was going to happen and that the only twists and turns were my own clumsy path.

 

Nothing happens when you’re dead; literally, nothing. Granted, I don’t have a body to call my own per se, but being dead feels surprisingly like being alive sans the worry and confusion. It’s peaceful, and …mundane.

 

I’ve run into a few familiar souls since my arrival, but none seemed as aware as I am. I bumped into Professor Lupin and someone who resembled Harry’s father, James, but they were stuck in what looked like an endless youthful loop; one where they never age and never experience heartache. That presumption gave me a warm feeling in an otherwise stoic environment.

 

By stoic I mean this plane doesn’t have the emotional highs and lows that life does. It’s not particularly joyous or sad. I don’t feel excitable or morose. The emotions I express are true, but muted. This place isn’t bad or good. It just _is_.

 

Professor Lupin didn’t recognize me, of course – he wouldn’t. He only reacted with mild curiosity then focused back on playing Exploding Snap with James Potter.

Sirius was strangely absent, which makes be believe he is on another plane within the Veil, or perhaps, alive. You never know what the Fates deem an absolute or if the plans they have are flexible.

 

The Fates explained why my soul, spirit if you will, saw Professor Lupin as he was in my life, only younger.

 

A projection.

 

Apparently, my soul is still connected to the living, which is one of the reasons they spoke to me; that, and I am, or was, a bit of a Curious George.

 

If you can read this, and I’m not at all certain that you can, I’m sure mental projections, and a humdrum after life is not a concern to you. You want to know what the Fates spoke to me about, exactly.

 

Making contact.

 

Telling my story. Though, I suspect _They_ want the afterlife to seem more appealing and less scary. As I look around, I wonder why they don’t spruce up the place.

 

Now, I’d like to tell you a story, about me; about my life and what I feel now in death.

 

I lived during a time of fear; war was imminent and eventually, it found me… or I found it.

 

I’ll skip the gory details of being attacked by a troll my first year as a witch, or the fact that I was discriminated against because of my parentage. What I’d like to share with you is how love overcame ingrained prejudice, a generational gap, and childhood angst, turning my life and my previous belief system arse over elbows. Now, I’m not particularly sentimental usually, but this is important.

 

I lived as a magical being where anything could happen. What was impossible to Muggles was commonplace for the magical.

 

My third year, I was granted permission to use a Time-turner. I used it to get ahead with my studies, but I didn’t return it when the year was over like I was supposed to.

 

I lied.

 

I did that a lot about many different things. Most people that knew me would be, dare I say, shocked to realize just how much I lied. It was a very un-Hermione-like thing to do. I didn’t lie about stupid things, petty everyday items, but if I wanted to march myself into the Forbidden Forest for whatever reason, you can bet that I would come up with a doozy.

 

I’m not proud of lying, but I did it.

 

With a straight face and a sufficiently humbled tone of voice, I told Professor McGonagall that I broke it during the harrowing rescue of Buckbeak, the hippogriff. I had the sneaking suspicion that Headmaster Dumbledore didn’t believe me, but Professor McGonagall didn’t question the tale.

 

I kept the gold device hidden away, certain that I would have need of it in the years to come. I wasn’t wrong. I did need it and I didn’t hesitate in using it.

 

It was the end of what was supposed to be my final year at Hogwarts. I was 17 years old and had been on the run, searching for Horcruxes with my best friends, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. We had just made the decision to return to Hogwarts to search for the Ravenclaw Diadem; though, at the time, we didn’t know it was the Diadem we were looking for.

 

Three days after we reunited with our friends at Hogwarts and two days after we’d saved Malfoy and Goyle from certain death in the Room of Requirement, Harry made the decision to confront Voldemort and kill him as long as Neville and I killed Nagini. This decision was made just after we’d watched Ronald die by the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and then Bellatrix die by Molly Weasley’s wand.

 

That was the plan. You know that old saying: The best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry? Well, this plan was neither the best laid nor of mice and men. You can guess what happened.

 

Harry and Voldemort killed each other; neither rose from their confrontation. There was nothing I could do. I looked around after hearing the shrieking of the grief stricken, wondering who was screaming, and realized with some trepidation that it was me. A voice cut through my hysteria upon hearing my name. It was urgently spoken and sharply delivered.

 

Turning, I was just in time to see an unknown Death Eater point his wand in my direction and begin to utter the words that would end my life. Time slowed for me as I watched the wizard’s mouth hiss the first syllables. It was an epiphany of epic proportions – though, probably blatantly obvious to someone else: the war wasn’t over.

 

I was saved a second later by someone I never expected to help me in any situation, Draco Malfoy. Our eyes met in that brief second, just before the remaining Death Eaters regained their senses and began fighting once again. Draco shouted at me to run and so I did. I heard the killing curse yelled and looked back just in time to see Draco fall. There was no time for tears or mourning. He was but another undeserving casualty of war.

 

I made the split decision, right then and there, to change the here and now. Pulling out the ever present Time-turner and muttering the memorized inscription on the back of it, I ran, desperately spinning the dial. Just before I disappeared, I felt a most excruciating pain in my back and the subsequent flow of blood. I stumbled and closed my eyes before I fell.

 

I didn’t feel the wet grass against my face as I had expected, but rather the dizzying motion of time travel.

 

I hit solid ground a moment later with a thump and a groan. My head was spinning, and I felt weak and cold. I heard deep voices and a scream for the Headmaster then nothing.

****

**_**** Living present, but not so present (third person)_ **

 

Hermione heard the mumbled but decorous tones of a masculine voice and twitched when a soft, warm hand touched her forehead.

 

“Miss?”

 

Hermione slowly opened her eyes and kept them squinted against the bright lights in what she assumed was the Hogwarts infirmary.

 

“Miss?” Again the witch wearing a white smock and hat called softly, watching her with careful eyes.

 

Hermione nodded. “Yes,” she rasped.

 

Hazel eyes met watery blue on the face of the Healer. The woman smiled and lifted her wand to run another diagnostic over Hermione. “Well, you seem to be recovering nicely. My name is Madam Filch, and you are?”

 

All Hermione heard was Filch. She furrowed her brows. “As in Argus Filch, the caretaker?”

 

The woman sitting on the chair near her bed raised her eyebrows. “As in Argus Filch, my husband the librarian,” she said slowly.

 

Hermione schooled her features. _How far have I gone back?_

She saw no reason to lie, if she was to accomplish what she set out to do then no one would know her anyway in her time. “I’m Hermione ….”

 

Her eyes caught the stiff movement to her left. Three boys stared at her with varying degrees of disdain. Her perusal stopped at the platinum blond hair; a Malfoy, she knew, but not Lucius. Their eyes met for a brief moment before he raised both eyebrows in a suggestive manner then smirked.

 

Hermione cocked an eyebrow and stretched her lip. _Prat_! She thought, amused.

 

Madam Filch cleared her throat in an attempt to get their attention. “Miss… er Hermione, this is Cygnus Black, Thomas Riddle, and Abraxas Malfoy. They found you and Abraxas carried you up here.”

 

_Thomas Riddle!_

 

“Do you know where you are?” Madam Filch asked gently.

 

Hermione couldn’t pull her eyes from the blue eyes of the future Dark Lord. Snape had labeled her a natural Occlumens, so she was confident he couldn’t access her inner workings, but it was still a bit intimidating the way he held her stare so intensely.

 

Madam Filch huffed in irritation, muttering about boy crazy witches. To that, Hermione snapped out of her trance and frowned. “I’m in Scotland. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. What day is it today, please?”  


Riddle smirked and Madam Filch fluttered. “Year of our magic 1945 October 10. You are not a student of Hogwarts, Miss. Where do you attend then?” Madam Filch was all business. She didn’t wait for a response from her young charge. Instead, she turned to Cygnus Black, and said, “Get yourself to the Headmaster. Tell him she’s awake.”

 

Cygnus nodded curtly, gave Hermione a lewd once over, smirked at her blush then left with a cocky stride.

 

Hermione opened her mouth to answer the question once the focus was upon her again.

 

She couldn’t tell them the truth. What would she say? _I’m here from the future to kill you, Riddle. Are you ready to die?_

 

“Home schooled. I was home schooled, but my parents… I now have the opportunity to attend Hogwarts. How did I get here?” The explanation was jumbled, but it worked. Her confused expression and question at the end lent itself to memory loss at her rather unceremonious landing in this time.

 

Hermione could see the Healer processing it, but there was something about the way that Riddle was watching her with a satisfied expression that gave her the creeps; like he knew something she didn’t.

 

Her thought process was interrupted when a nearly bald and somewhat feeble wizard ambled into the infirmary and to Hermione’s bedside. In Hermione’s opinion, he had none of the commanding presence that Albus Dumbledore possessed.

 

The man nodded in greeting to Madam Filch and eyed the two young men then focused his attention on Hermione. “I am Headmaster Dippet. Welcome to Hogwarts, young lady.” He waited for no response, only turned and began walking away.

 

It wasn’t until Hermione was nudged by the Healer that she stood, albeit a bit wobbly, and took a step forward to follow.

 

Abraxas immediately took her arm to steady her path. Hooking her hand in the crook of his elbow, he walked slowly forward so as not to rush her. “Allow me to escort you, Hermione.”

 

 

Hermione could only nod in agreement as she was still feeling woozy from her journey as well as her body aching from her fall.

 

The walk to the Headmaster’s office was a blur and she didn’t remember walking the familiar hallways. Though, she knew that the trip was made in comfortable silence and that Tom Riddle had followed quietly alongside Abraxas.

 

A rather large and burly wizard was walking towards her with many books in his hands and a burlap sack strung over one shoulder. He was muttering something under his breath and when he passed the three, he shouldered Hermione, knocking her into Abraxas.

 

The large wizard turned and offered a tense smile. Clearly, he was both in a hurry and uncomfortable. “Sorry ‘bout tha’.”

 

Recognition exploded in her mind and she swallowed down a huge grin followed by a big hug. This man wouldn’t know her and if she recalled, this year was the year he was expelled. “It’s alright.”

 

After an awkward silence and Hagrid not knowing if he should leave or stay, the small, pretty witch held out her hand. “I’m Hermione and you are?”  


Hagrid smiled and shifted a group of books to one arm. “Rubeus Hagrid.”

 

She felt the tug on her arm and realized that Abraxas had had enough. They continued their walk to the Headmaster’s office with Hermione wondering if she would see Hagrid again, or if there was some way she could save him from being blamed.

 

Hermione focused on the man behind the large desk. “You will take a simple magical aptitude test, dear, before we enroll you.”

 

Hermione was a slightly wary that they had not asked about her parents.

 

Headmaster Dippet surprised her; as soon as that thought had been formulated, he’d responded to it. He tapped his temple with one long finger and said, “I know.”

 

She wondered how much he knew.

 

He Accio’d a book from the highest shelf and floated it to his arms. Opening it, he came around the desk to sit beside her. “You’ll Transfigure the book in stages. Stage one is an inanimate object.” Lifting the book closer to her, she pulled her wand from its holder strapped to her inner thigh; earning a raised eyebrow from Malfoy and Riddle, and a smirk from Black.

 

Pointing it, she whispered the spell. They watched as the book transformed into a bronze cup.

 

The next was a living, one-celled animal. She had no trouble with that. Stage three was a small animal. All four magical beings were imposed upon to catch the quick bunny the book had become.

 

Stage four was a flying creature.

 

Abraxas smirked when she combined the Avis spell with Transfiguration, sending a flock of canaries to attack Riddle. The blue-eyed boy cursed and ended the bout with a hiss and a glare. Hermione gave him a shrug of indifference that spoke volumes about her feelings towards him.

 

The final stage was a large animal with the ability to communicate. Hermione shocked them all, including herself, by Transfiguring the book into an elf. The elf couldn’t do anything but nod and recite what was written inside the book, but it placed her magic far above 99% of Hogwarts to include the staff.

 

Dippet looked up to address the portraits. “Hermione Granger will be enrolled at Hogwarts for her last year.   Her parents are deceased, which qualifies her for witchcraft educational aide.”

 

One of the portraits spoke in a snappish and disbelieving tone. “I do not recall any Grangers, Headmaster.” Though the sentence itself was benign, they all knew what he meant: Granger was not a recognized surname of a pureblood family.

 

Dippet pursed his lips and pierced Hermione with a penetrating gaze. She shifted, discomfited by the silence in the room. “The Grangers were a small family distantly related to the Macmillan and Prewett families. They left mainstream society for a quieter existence some years ago.” The Headmaster paused then smiled at his new charge. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Granger. We’re glad to have you back.”

 

Hermione couldn’t speak, but she did mentally note that she owed this man …everything.

 

Finding her voice and clearing her throat, she responded to him with a nod. “Thank you, Headmaster. I look forward to learning in your institution.” Her eyes shifted to the others present. She could feel Malfoy’s eyes on her.

 

Dippet nodded and snapped his fingers. An elf appeared with the Sorting Hat in hand. He placed it on Hermione’s head, and they all watched as she was momentarily immobilized while the Hat assessed her mind for which house she would reside.

_A beautiful mind, you have. Why the placement in Gryffindor? Oh, I see…_

_You know about that? It – it hasn’t happened yet._

_I transcend time, my dear. Hmmmm, though both brave and cunning, I don’t believe placement in either of those Houses would help you accomplish your mission. They are too extreme in their views. I believe you’ll need a more neutral environment._

 

“Ravenclaw!”

 

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and smiled once she could move again. She looked up into the eyes of Headmaster Dippet. He nodded as if he’d heard every word.

 

She then looked into the somewhat disappointed looking expressions from Malfoy and Black – though, she couldn’t be certain, they were nearly blank of emotion. Her eyes shifted to Riddle’s and again, he was wearing a smugness that unnerved her.

Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. Hermione spent much of the time pondering how she would kill Riddle. She knew the longer she waited the harder it would be, but she also acknowledged that taking someone’s life, no matter how evil she knew they’d be, was more difficult than she had previously realized.

 

His personality also gave her pause. Riddle was a bit of a strange bird. Hermione was having trouble matching the man she knew to be Voldemort and the boy she knew now.

 

She often wondered how this boy could have become the Dark Lord.

 

She’d come upon him several times completely unaware of her presence. She’d even pulled her wand a few times, hoping to work up the fortitude to cast an Unforgivable. But she couldn’t. She’d either run out of time, or thought he would wake, or she simply just could not take his life.

 

Riddle was quite clumsy and not very popular with the witches. He was something of a know-it-all and though, the Voldemort she knew of was unassumingly cunning, this wizard was obvious. She also noted that the smug expression he often wore was not smug to her any longer; it was more of a goofy grin when he didn’t have anything to add to a conversation. Frequently, she chalked it up to social awkwardness.

 

Hermione had worked under the assumption, implied by Dumbledore, that Tom Riddle was a favorite among the staff. That he had fooled them all except for Albus himself. Slowly, she was coming to realize that that was not the case. The only Professor to express any more-than-normal sympathies to Riddle was Professor Slughorn.

 

Hermione had also discovered a bit more about Albus Dumbledore. He was not even in the running for Headmaster, and Dippet and he, clearly, did not hold each other in high regards.

 

Abraxas and Cygnus had become her class confidants. The three of them were close and only when Riddle beckoned them or Hermione went to settle down for night in the Ravenclaw tower did they separate.  She found herself breaking her fast with them at the Slytherin table, though she did find being a Ravenclaw more fitting to her personality and the intellectual capital in the common room far exceeded that of Gryffindors.

 

Truth be told, she had developed a rather serious love-crush on Abraxas and she berated herself every day because of it. She’d caught him staring on more than one occasion, but she figured it had to do with her unmanageable hair and the unruly curls bound and determined to remain a nuisance in this time or her own.

 

Abraxas was beautiful, witty in a dry-humor sort of way, graceful, skilled with magic, and very intelligent. If you threw in rich and pureblood then he was most sought after, but Hermione, well she knew he’d never find her attractive enough to commit to.

 

One chilly day, she walked outside to ‘her’ bench by the lake only to overhear an argument. Abraxas’ baritone voice and eloquent speech she recognized, and the other was Riddle’s. The shorter wizard was telling Abraxas that Hermione was not what she seemed. That she had already come in between them.

 

She heard Riddle tell Abraxas that she would wreck any plans they had for the future, but Abraxas only chuckled.

 

Hermione poked her head around the large tree to find Abraxas standing with folded arms and looking quite condescending at the wizard six inches shorter.

 

She hadn’t thought she’d made a sound, but Abraxas turned and smiled at her. “Hermione.”

 

The sheepish expression she wore as she moved towards the tall blond made him chuckle. Abraxas draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.  

 

Hermione wanted him to do that all day every day. Riddle scowled at her and fingered his wand. “Hermione, Tom here feels like you’re a threat to our plans for the future. That isn’t so, is it, poppet?”

 

“I don’t know what your plans are, Abraxas,” she quipped, frowning back at Riddle.

 

_Of course, I’m a threat. I’m going to kill you, Riddle._

 

That was Hermione’s mistake. Though she was a natural Occlumens, it didn’t mean she shouldn’t be aware of skilled Legilimens like Riddle. He had read her thoughts and pulled his wand.

 

Curiously, he didn’t aim it at Hermione. He’s pointed it at Abraxas. Hermione didn’t think, she just reacted. Casting a Stunner and hitting Riddle square in the chest, it threw him like a rag doll into the tree bark twenty meters away.

 

Before panic set in at her actions, Abraxas had gathered her up and was walking, quite swiftly, into the forest. When he stopped abruptly in a small clearing and knelt on the ground, pinning her to the floor, she felt a frisson of excitement pulse through her.

 

“Abraxas?”

 

She didn’t have time to say more. His mouth descended on hers, coaxing, and licking. He settled in between her legs thrusting shallowly, getting her used to his large frame. “You’re so beautiful when you’re angry… and the power you have- it makes me want to…” He couldn’t finish as the only words he could think of at the moment to end that sentence was ‘fuck you’.

 

Yelping, he had moved his head from her lips to her breasts, suckling her nipple. Instead of scrambling out from under him, Hermione carded her fingers through his hair and gently tugged.

 

“I want you, love. Have wanted you since you dropped in my lap. Forever. You’re mine. Say it,” he ordered. “You want me, too.” It was more of a declaration than a question, but she answered anyway.

 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes… I’m yours.”

 

He needed no other prompting. Ripping her skirt and knickers, he placed her legs on his shoulders and kissed her nether lips with a passion she’d never experienced.

 

That’s where it all ended.

 

The lovers had been oblivious to Riddle recovering from the Stunner and standing, enraged.

 

Hermione opened her eyes just in time to see Riddle point his wand at her and utter the words that would kill her. The green light shot out of his wand, and hit her on the shoulder. She heard Abraxas scream ‘NO!’ and scramble for his wand, but after that, the world faded to black.

 

**_The Fates_ **

So that’s where it ended.   I know now that Abraxas killed Tom Riddle, but the Fates would not allow me to see how it changed the future… my future.

 

I loved him – Abraxas. But I don’t think he changed his views of Muggleborns. Therefore, presumably, he raised Lucius the say way he did in my time. I did nothing, but fall in love.

 

Ridiculous.

 

It did give me an understanding about Slytherins, though. They were different from Gryffindor, yes, but not inherently bad as some would have you believe. They’re a close-knit community, with traditions of their own. They laughed together and sought each other out for comfort – much like Gryffindor, but they just didn’t display it for the world to see.

 

Most were smart and I would consider each Slytherin I met brave just not stupidly brave. Of course, more often than not, they needed a reason to be brave, some sort of benefit to themselves or their loved ones. Some academics say that generosity itself is a selfish act, so how I can I judge them?

 

“Hermione Granger.”

 

That’s me. The Fates are calling. Must be time to begin.

 

“You have been chosen. Do you accept?”

 

“I do.”

 

Pain and then nothing.

 

“Hermione?”

 

Hermione opened her eyes and squinted. The lights were bright, but not shining. Someone was dimming them, and she was able to open her eyes fully.

 

The first thing she saw was … “Abraxas?”

 

He smiled. “Yes, love. You gave us a scare.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“You took a dive off of Riker.” She recognized the voice approaching as Cygnus Black.

 

“Cygnus?”

 

Abraxas and Cygnus shared a concerned look. “You remember Cygnus, poppet, don’t you?”

 

“Of course, but… who’s Riker?”

 

“Your Pegasus. He got spooked by something and came tumbling down with you following.”

 

She nodded and massaged her temple. “Is he alright?”

 

The wizards snorted. “Yes, love, he’s fine and flying about your window trying to get a look in.”

 

Hermione shifted and smiled at the whinny of concern. Cygnus left a moment later, leaving Abraxas and her alone. “Abraxas… Where are we?”

 

He tilted his head and cupped her cheek in a loving manner. “Home, poppet. “

 

With that action she spied the ring on his finger then felt the matching ring on hers. The Runes tattooed on their wrists told her all she needed to know: they were married and she was alive.

 

She hugged him fiercely and he responded. Kissing him and feeling him and knowing that he was hers prompted a warmth to spread through her body.

 

“Careful, love. I don’t want to-“

 

He was interrupted by Hermione’s spell to divest him of his coverings. She’d wanted to see him and touch him the entire year of Hogwarts 1946.

 

“I want to,” she whispered, sliding down to engulf her lips around his straining erection.   Abraxas jerked in response then nearly melted. His wife was most talented at this and he knew he was a lucky wizard to have convinced her to bind herself to him. Though he’d had significant competition; after Riddle had… expired, Cygnus decided that Hermione should be his. The two men spent the next two years at University, courting Miss Granger.

 

Abraxas had won her heart and they had married the following year. They’d been married now for five years and he loved her more than ever. She ran the financials for his business, maintained his home, argued passionately about every subject he could think of and gave him sexual pleasures a man could only dream about. She was truly a partner to him and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

He could feel the twist in his belly and knew that he wouldn’t last if she continued.   Pulling on her luscious hair, he said, “Wait, I want to feel you… please.”

 

Sucking once more on his shaft, Hermione pulled away with a pop and stood. “Feel me then, Abraxas.” Her voice was sultry and hypnotic. He picked her up and drove into her where they stood.

 

Keening with pleasure, an errant thought whizzed through her mind, there would be no mundane again. She would live life to its fullest.

 

Abraxas’ hips pistoned back and forth and each time he pushed in, his pelvis hit her clit. A second later, she screamed his name and kissed him as he grunted with climax.

 

They lay down on the bed and slept the afternoon away in each other’s arms.

 

**_(***) Eight and half months later_ **

 

“It’s a boy, Abraxas,” Hermione said, stroking the little blond head at her breast.

 

“He’s beautiful. What shall we call him?”

 

“Lucius.”

 

The End.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
